by Erin Johnson
He smacked his lips and primly replaced the drink on the end table. “Jealousy isn’t a good look for you, Jolene.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine, by the way, thank you for asking. I made it out of the sewers alive.”
He rolled his eyes and swept a giant hand toward the prince and princess. They gathered around the tables beside the healers, poring over bubbling potions and spell books. I spotted some of the scrolls and files we’d stolen from Ludolf’s the night before. “They filled me in, obviously.”
We left Will to enjoy his lounging and made our way over to the prince and princess. Heidi hopped down from one of the stools, the gray sloth in her arms.
“You did it!” She shifted the sloth to her hip and hugged me with her free arm, then hugged Peter and ruffled the fur on Daisy’s head. I quirked a brow—how come Heidi got to pet her?
She bounced on her heels, her long black hair in a high ponytail on top of her head. “It’s so great here. All the other animals—sorry, shifters—are in the conservatory. They love all the plants.”
I smiled back. “You’re getting used to the royal treatment too, huh?”
She scoffed. “I’m just happy to stay out of my parents’ house for a little longer.”
She joined us as we made our way to the prince and princess. Princess Imogen beamed when she spotted us. “Jolene!”
Her little flame, Iggy, burned in his lantern on the table in front of her and the prince. He peeked out at me. “So on a scale of one to ten, how terrible was her acting last night?”
I smirked in spite of myself, remembering the princess’s ridiculous jerks as she tried to imitate Viktor. In fairness to her, she’d never actually seen or met the man… though I wasn’t convinced that would’ve helped.
Iggy cackled. “I’ll take that as a ten.”
Princess Imogen shot him a flat look, then turned back to me, looking satisfied with herself. “I did great—it was a real team effort, huh, Jolene?”
She clearly expected me to agree with her. I cleared my throat and fiddled with the corner of a piece of parchment. “Mm-hmm.”
Daisy glanced over her shoulder at me and growled as Prince Harry scratched behind her ears. Liar.
The princess frowned. “What does that mean?”
I waved it off—this was clearly a no-win situation for me. “How’s the potion-making going?”
The prince nodded, his eyes alight. “Slow, even with the files we managed to take, but we’re making good progress. The healers expect some breakthroughs in the next few days.”
Peter nodded. “I imagine some potions take time to brew.”
The prince lifted a palm. “Exactly.”
“Sorry.” I shot Peter a sheepish grin, then made introductions.
“Nice to meet you, Officer Flint.” The princess winked at me and mouthed, “He’s cute.”
Iggy thumbed a flaming hand at her. “Captain Subtlety over here.”
I grinned up at Peter and sucked on my lips. It was true—he was pretty cute.
Peter shot the prince a concerned look. “Any news about Sam Snakeman?”
The prince and princess exchanged downcast looks, and the prince shook his head. Apparently Amelia and Kenta had been wallpapering the island in “missing pet snake” posters, but they hadn’t had any leads yet.
“Well, not any real leads,” Iggy piped up from the lantern with a devious grin.
The prince blushed, and the princess made a face, then spoke out of the side of her mouth. “We’ve received quite a few notices from men who claim to have the snake we’re looking for.”
Peter lifted a quizzical brow.
“Imogen—why are there so many snakes out there with only one eye?” Iggy blinked innocently at her until she shook her head and he devolved into cackles.
Peter’s face turned bright red. “Oh. Oh, no.”
The princess nodded seriously. “You always underestimate how gross the public is.” She shrugged.
We thanked them again for all their help and then headed over to the police station. It felt good to know Will, Heidi, and all the shifters were safe and that cures were on the way.
I just hoped it’d be soon enough to stop Ludolf before he hurt me or the people I cared about. After I’d foiled his goon’s attempt to hurt Sam during the rally and then broken into his potions lair and stolen his files, I was pretty sure the mob boss of the shifters would be gunning for me.
22
Police Station
The police station, normally busy, was downright chaotic. I chalked it up to the recent near riot, assassination attempt on Sam Snakeman, and, of course, the murder of Polly Pierre at the royal baking competition.
Edna, the station manager, sat at the front desk with one finger pressed to the communication device in her ear. She was shaking her head and snapping her fingers at a young officer. The cop finally turned around, and Edna mouthed, with her bright pink lips, “Records! Records!”
The officer’s eyes widened, and she turned around and headed in the correct direction as Edna slumped back into her seat. She shuffled stacks of papers while talking to the person on the other end of the device.
“Yes, I understand, ma’am, but we’re short-staffed right now. Yes, even the police can be short-staffed, and we simply can’t help your grandson get his hand out of the cookie jar. Try an unsticking spell.”
She yanked the device out of her ear and looked up at us, exasperated. “Go away.” Her eyes widened behind her purple cat glasses as she took us in. “Oh! Peter, doll, Jolene, toots.” She leaned over to ruffle the fur on Daisy’s head. “And my little puppy pumpkin!” She blew out a breath. “It’s been absolutely nuts, a real sinkhole tonight. Please tell me no one else has died.”
Peter grinned. “Anything we can help with, Edna?”
She reached over and patted his cheek, her fingers stacked with gaudy rings and the bangles at her wrist jangling. “You’re such a doll. No— Oh!” She pointed behind her. “Russo’s waiting for you in evidence.”
Peter nodded. “Thanks, Edna.”
I winked at her. “Good luck.”
Daisy reluctantly peeled herself away from Edna’s pets and trotted along beside us as we ducked under flying stacks of paperwork and threaded between the metal desks and bustling cops to the evidence room. Normally, a mustached cop sat outside the evidence locker, but tonight just a clipboard with a sign-in sheet sat at his empty desk.
I raised my brows. “Guess it’s all hands on deck, huh?”
Peter nodded, signed us in, and then we stepped through the spelled gate to the shelves littered with evidence. We snaked through until we spotted Russo, the tall rookie cop. He pushed his square glasses up his nose and grinned, waving us over.
We said our hellos, and Peter planted his hand on the table. “Alright, what’s this evidence you have for us?”
Russo rubbed his palms together, eyes eager. A cardboard box sat on the table in front of him. “First, did you hear about Frank Hemlock?”
I squinted, the name ringing a bell…. “Oh!” I frowned. “The bossy dude from the baking competition?”
Russo nodded and absentmindedly scratched Daisy’s head. Her black nose twitched as she sniffed his pants leg. “Yep. He got his team kicked out for cheating.”
I smirked and leaned closer. “Ooh, do tell.” This sounded juicy—it was possible Madeline L’Orange was rubbing off on me.
Russo licked his lips and splayed his palms. “Get this—he was sprinkling seasonings on other teams’ bakes that made the food taste bad.”
Peter folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Some people….”
I scoffed. “So if he was sprinkling seasonings on others’ bakes, then maybe he could’ve sprinkled a little poison into Polly’s tea?”
Russo raised his brows and nodded, but Peter tipped his head to the side, looking less convinced. “I don’t know—if you killed someone, why draw further suspicion to yourself by cheating? And getting caught?�
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I leaned into one hip. “Good point.” I lifted a palm. “Besides, he told us he didn’t kill Polly, and Daisy confirmed.” I lifted a brow as I looked at the tawny fur ball. “And we all know Daisy’s always right.”
She glanced my way and wagged her tail. True.
I narrowed my eyes—I’d have sworn she somehow understood me.
Peter looked down at the cardboard box on the table between us and Russo. “So about this evidence…?”
“Right!” Russo yanked the lid off and pulled out a red leather purse with gold details. Cute—but not my style. “This is Tonya Pierre’s purse.”
I pictured the shorter brunette sister and could see it fitting her retro style. Russo, hands gloved, reached inside. “Remember, we confiscated all the contestants’ personal belongings? It’s taken us some time to catalogue it all, but this evening, I found this.” He withdrew a square of parchment and unfolded it, then slid it across the table for us to read.
Peter and I bent forward, our temples nearly touching.
You need to tell your sister the truth about what you did, today, or I will. Love you, darling—we all make mistakes, but it’s time to come clean. —Mom
Peter and I exchanged wide-eyed glances. Peter pointed at the letter. “Tonya’s mother, Polly Pierre, gave this to her? I’d say that gives her daughter motive. She could’ve killed Polly to keep her secret—whatever it was.”
I quirked my lips to the side. “I’m guessing it wasn’t borrowing her sister’s favorite shoes and ruining them.”
Peter leaned forward and peered inside the purse. “Find anything else that looked interesting?”
Russo shook his head but gently shook out the rest of the purse’s contents. “Just this.”
I looked over the tortoiseshell compact, a silk coin purse, and a black tube of lipstick. I pictured Tonya’s dark purple lips—and then the light coral lipstick mark left on the teacup Polly had drunk from.
I glanced up at Russo. “Are the girls—Tonya and Elin—still competing without their mother?”
Russo nodded. “From what I understand, they were given a pass on today’s bake, given the circumstances, but will be back at it tomorrow.”
“Alright.” Peter nodded. “Let’s go have a chat with Tonya Pierre—ask her about this letter.” He sighed. “We still need to track down Polly’s ex, Vince Dupont.”
Russo’s scroll of parchment magically appeared beside his head. “I’ve got his address for you.”
I nodded, grinning. “And while we’re at it, we might as well go check out Mimi Moulin a little more… and her famous bakery. Maybe sample some of the goods.” I winked, but Peter’s eyes widened.
“She’s a suspect in a murder investigation.”
I shrugged, grinning wider. “I hear her pan dulces are to die for. Get it?”
Russo chuckled, but Peter just groaned.
Russo held up a gloved finger. “We also confiscated the Pierres’ sourdough starter like you asked, Flint.”
I turned to my boyfriend. “Aw—I didn’t know you did that.”
He grinned and shrugged. “Well, I’m trying to start righting some wrongs that have been done against shifters.”
I lifted my chin, smiling. “Good—about time.”
Russo nodded. “If you can get a sample of Mimi Moulin’s sourdough starter, we can have the lab test them.”
I licked my lips. “Just another good reason to go visit Mimi’s bakery.” My mouth was watering already.
23
Tonya
Peter, Daisy, and I headed to go see Tonya Pierre first. She (and her mother before her death) lived in the flat above their bakery, which we quickly found on a busy section of Main Street. The middle tier of the island bustled with magical shoppers and diners.
Like the Darkmoon District, Main Street came alive at night, after all the human tourists had gone back to the mainland. Unlike the Darkmoon, you didn’t have to watch your step around broken bottles or puddles of mysterious liquids.
Peter and I stood under the pink-and-white-striped awning as we waited for Tonya to answer the door. I felt like Daisy, nose in the air as I sniffed. The heavenly scent of caffeine in the form of cappuccinos wafted my way from the bistro across the street. Warm light spilled from its windows, matching the brightly lit clothing shop and pet store next to the bakery.
Gold lettering on the bakery’s front window proclaimed it the Pierre Bakery, but the cake stands all stood empty and the lights dark. I bit my lip. I’d wondered if the twins would be able to win the competition now that their mother was gone, but now I questioned whether the business would stay open. Even if Tonya and her mother hadn’t had a good relationship, would Tonya really have jeopardized her livelihood and home to keep a secret from her twin sister?
Footsteps scuffled behind the door, and the locks clicked. Tonya peered out at us, a blue silk kerchief wound round her dark, curly head of hair and tied at the top. She sported pink flannel pajamas with cupcakes and magic swirls printed all over them. She rubbed her eyes and yawned as if we’d awoken her. I lifted a brow—guess someone wasn’t losing sleep over their mother’s murder.
Peter tipped his policeman’s cap. “Is it alright if we come in?”
She stood aside and waved us in. “Have you found out who killed my mom?”
We stepped into the shop, the floor tiled in black-and-white honeycomb, a white marble countertop across the back and pale pink shelves displaying cake boxes and delicacies. Daisy and I lifted our noses and inhaled deeply. Butter and sugar—yum.
Tonya pointed to the narrow stairs to the left of the counter. “Would you like to come up to the flat?”
We nodded, and she led the way, Daisy bounding up behind her. The space above the bakery was just as pink and frilly as the downstairs. Lacy white curtains hung over the front window, which overlooked Main Street, and a pink wooden table and chairs and floral couch took up most of the cozy space.
Three doors opened off the central room. I caught sight of a porcelain sink and shower curtain in one, and a vanity laden with makeup and lipsticks in the other—that must be Tonya’s room. The third door stood closed, the space underneath dark. And that, I guessed, had to have been Polly’s room.
Peter and I settled on the flowery couch—soft and comfy—while Tonya pulled a chair over from the table and sat facing us. She laced her hands together, then squeezed them between her knees. She leaned forward, her eyes big and eager. “So—did you catch Mom’s killer?”
Peter cleared his throat. “Not yet.”
Her face fell.
“But we’re following some promising leads.”
I bit back a smirk—yeah, our top one is you!
Peter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. In the silence that stretched out, Tonya shifted in her seat, her eyes darting between me and Peter and Daisy, who sat at his feet. “What’s going on?”
Peter licked his lips and leaned forward. “We found the note—the one in your purse from your mother?”
Twin pink spots burned on her cheeks, and she pressed her lips tight together.
I raised my brows. “It doesn’t look good, Tonya. Your mom tells you that you’d better confess some mysterious secret to your sister, or she will… and then she ends up dead?”
Tonya gasped. “You can’t— You think I—” She shook her head. “No way.”
“Then why don’t you explain what that note meant?” Peter kept his tone gentle but firm.
Her throat bobbed, and she pulled the neck of her flannel pajamas tighter. “It—” She let out a shrill laugh. “It was just a joke.”
Daisy growled. Lie!
Tonya startled, her wide eyes on the dog.
I smirked. “Care to try again?”
Tonya waved a hand and crossed her legs, half turning away from us. “Oh, well, Elin’s birthday’s coming up, and we’re planning a surprise party, but Mom didn’t—”
Daisy lifted her haunches and let out a deep growl. She’s lyi
ng!
Tonya eyed the enormous German shepherd like she was convinced Daisy was about to pounce on her. She leapt to her feet and stood behind her chair, holding it like she was a lion tamer.
“Fine!” Her eyes blazed. “Fine—I admit it. I slept with Lorenzo.”
I sucked in a loud gasp in spite of myself. “What? Your sister’s fiancé?” I gaped at Peter. Every time I thought nothing would surprise me anymore…. This was juicy.
Her throat bobbed again, and she tried to look prim. “Lorenzo’s a player. He took advantage of my insecurities.” She sniffed. “I’m not as pretty as Elin; she always gets all the attention. And she was rubbing it in my face—I just… I wanted some love too.”
I was too shocked to ask an intelligent question, but luckily for me, Peter wasn’t. “How did your mom find out?”
The blush returned to her cheeks again. “He would sneak over here. Since I live with Mom—” She lifted her eyes. “—lived, it was only a matter of time before she caught us together.”
Daisy whined and lowered her haunches back down to a sit. Truth.
Tonya huffed and settled back into the wooden kitchen chair. “I was obviously embarrassed and begged my mom not to say anything. But when Lorenzo and Elin announced their engagement, my mom told me I had to tell my sister the truth.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Mom may have played a little fast and loose with some rules, but having been cheated on by Vince, she had a hard line on that. I told her it would never happen again, but she insisted I still tell Elin.”
Daisy wagged her tail. True.
Peter nodded. “And that was what that letter was about?”
Tonya said it was, and Daisy confirmed it was the truth.
I leaned my elbow against the arm of the sofa and rested my cheek on my hand. Looked like we had this all wrapped up, so I asked the obvious question. “Did you kill your mom to keep your secret?”
Her mouth opened, then closed. “Wh— No! No way. I loved my mom, I would never!”